Mercy, Pity, and Abilene: They Ain't Just fer Tumbleweeds
In which the poet gives the last word to Blake This sedentary Coloradan has recently spent some time in Texas, from Amarilla to Austin to Houston to Abilene and back. Our son has recently moved to Houston. Friendlies and soft-bodied folks abound, as do lakes, rivers, and bridges. Still, I’ve been mulling how to paraphrase my overall perceptions in one pithy, all inclusive sentence. I’ve decided on: They don’t call it the lone star state fer nuthin. Though naturally I haven’t been able to resist one small stinger of a poem: Home of the Brave You can change the laws but you can’t change me. We who believe in the land of the free are free to poison honeybees. In a strange coincidence, while deep in the heart of the road, I received an email that a lengthy review of my work had quite suddenly appeared in Borderlands, an Austin-based journal. We walked into a local bookstore near our rental cottage, and picked up a copy. The